The Writer'S Quest

Books and pages seemed like a no man's land,
Letters written, wiped off on the sand,
Words framed into voyage of mirage,
Still the quest to conquer the soul,
Unfulfilled like a mountain sage. .

Searched on the busy streets,
Passed by a lethal retreat,
Strolling near the calm lakes,
On farms using sharp rakes,
Still the quest, remained silent.

Autumn ends and winters marched,
Standing and starring to the leaves that parched,
Dawning sun to the Twilight dusk,
Ashen shaded, shining mammoth ivory tusk,
Standing tall to the gateway of Shrine,
Guarded by the loyal huge canine.

Thirst of the quest was growing by,
Like an ocean shimmering in the night,
To the silvery shine moonlight.
The burning desire to quench my Thirst,
To enlighten the soul approving first.

Sneaking through the window pane,
To the hustle and bustle down the lane,
Sipping the hot vapory coffee,
Thoughts clinging and flustered,
An unanticipated affair met my eyes,
Luminous smile flickered on face.

Seeing the homeless snuggled in sleep,
And Giving shelter to the mongrel,
in the dark cold night for his survival.
Grateful to the mankind,
Still exist in the world of hypocrisy,
Words left standby and,
The quest of the writer finally accomplished.

- Chaitali Agrawal